Near and Far
by Aeria
Summary: Over the summer of 2011 Blaine goes to Europe for a month. Kurt misses him. Really misses him. In ways he hadn't not missed him when he was home. They skype. Smut ensues. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_Title:_ Near and Far

_Rating: _NC-17

_Summary: _Over the summer of 2011 Blaine goes to Europe for a month. Kurt misses him. Really _misses_ him. In ways he hadn't not missed him when he was home. They skype. Smut ensues.

_Characters: _Kurt/Blaine with nary a single cameo to be had.

_Wordcount:_ 6500

_A/N: _The long, long awaited skype fic. I always wanted to challenge myself and write phone sex for them early on because they're both so, so new to it all. So this happened. And now I'm posting it.

Enamoured, sexy, awkward first time (but over skype, does that even count?) more-than-making-out. So much more. And Kurt is…bold. And Blaine is…receptive. Pffft. Read it! SMUT!

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><p>"Hey!" Blaine sounds overly excited and he's bouncing a little in his seat, grinning and waving at Kurt through the computer screen.<p>

He's always this excited, he has always got stories to share. Kurt does his best to smile. "Hey!" he tries.

"What?" Blaine asks, calming instantly because even over skype he can tell when something's wrong. And yes, so maybe, Kurt isn't hiding it quite as much as he could have. Because he wants this attention.

"I miss you," he whines and he wants nothing more than to reach out and hug his boyfriend to him but Blaine's been in Europe for three weeks with his family and hugging a computer screen just seems stupid.

Blaine's expression softens, even though it's a little grainy and the picture's darker than usual and Kurt momentarily hates that. "I miss you, too."

"No, I—" Kurt cuts himself off; he knew taking the call when he did was a bad idea. But they will have to discus this eventually and Kurt just really wants to fall back into love and everything, _everything,_ that goes with it, as soon as Blaine is home. Awkward conversations can be had here. Now. While Kurt can't kiss him or touch him or…other things.

"I _miss _you," Kurt tries with the emphasis, he thinks, in the right place and eyes staring at Blaine's through the screen.

But Blaine misses it and just says back—oh god, his voice a little gooey—"I miss _you_."

Kurt huffs and yeah, he really shouldn't have taken the call scant few minutes after he finished jacking off and fell into a gross kind of melancholy that confused lust with love and made him wonder what the hell he was doing. But he does miss him. Emotionally and physically and he's kicking himself for not pushing Blaine into his bed and doing _things_ before he left. And now…now.

"When you get back," Kurt says, sounding confident, self-assured even though he's cringing inwardly, "I want to do things."

Blaine stares at him, eyebrows high in surprise and then low in consideration. He looks flustered, and then fidgety, he's glancing around and Kurt has to ask: "Where are you? The picture's all dark!"

Blaine just shrugs off the question, blinks his eyes closed for a second and asks, "What kind of things?"

Now Kurt's flustered and shrugging because in three weeks, three weeks of missing Blaine's kisses and his hands on his cheeks and neck and in his hair, Kurt has managed two weeks and six days of imagining Blaine's hands on his stomach and hips, across his back, wrapped around his thighs, then his cock, fingers pressing inside his ass. God, when did _that_ happen? Serves him right for suddenly have hours of spare time to himself every day. And teenage hormones. And a gorgeous boyfriend. Who was absent. His thoughts just ran away with him.

Not that he hadn't imagined it before. Just a little.

Before Blaine left, when they first started, Kurt had given a stunning monologue on how he wasn't really _that_ disinterested in sex and he knew about it and was fine with it. He didn't watch porn because it lacked emotion but he wasn't asexual or not interested or anything like that. Kurt had felt it was important to point that last bit out. And then to point out that he wasn't sex-crazed either and he wanted to take things slow because this was special and he was very happy with just making out for now because it was new and wonderful. And he'd rambled until Blaine kissed him to shut him up. Because Blaine had been a little bit gobsmacked and then had grinned and said 'okay' between kisses.

"What _things_, Kurt?" Blaine's voice makes Kurt jump and he realizes his eyes have glazed over and he's drifted. Not that Blaine would be able to tell. Because Blaine isn't there.

Kurt's a little exasperated. "The things that teenage boys are meant to want to do, Blaine."

A breath rattles out of him and Kurt can see him in the ghost-white light of his screen raise a hand to press to his face and run up through his hair. "Sex things?" he asks.

Kurt shifts in his chair, pulling a leg up under him. "Yeah. Sex things."

"Sex."

Kurt purses his lips. "Well not sex, not right away."

"No," Blaine actually sounds…wistful? Thoughtful? Like he's aching a little at the idea of not sex, not right away. And Kurt secretly enjoys that because he's been aching after that idea for weeks.

"Can we do that?" Kurt asks.

Blaine's head snaps up and his expression is all the more unreadable for the fact that it's in two dimensions, on a shitty screen, lagging a little and in shocking light. "Yeah," he says then thinks and Kurt's kind of thinking this might have been an important moment for them. But maybe not because it's over skype and that shouldn't count at all. "What do you want to do?"

Kurt flushes red instantly and hopes Blaine, who seems to be staring at him with dark eyes, doesn't notice. "Just things," he manages, though his voice is high-pitched and that's really a terrible answer.

"Like what?"

Kurt draws his other leg up and then thinks better and rearranges himself to sit cross-legged at his computer desk. He really doesn't want to have to say anything, _anything_, out loud right now. He feels like his cheeks are on fire and he's worrying his bottom lip and his mouth is dry. But Blaine's still staring at him intently. "Blaine," he tries for a warning tone, the one he uses when Blaine asks too many questions about fashion. "Why?" he lets the question hang and obstinately ignores the fact that he really, _really_, wants to ask Blaine the same and he knows why he wants to ask.

Blaine shifts, the laptop tilting and the image fuzzy and says, voice a little playful, "Because I wanna know."

Kurt huffs. "And I'm not sure I want to say it out loud," Kurt answers honestly, unable to miss Blaine's grin because it's broad and his teeth flash bright. "And if you were here, trying to talk to me about this, I would be kissing you to shut you up."

Breath catching, Blaine goes still and the grin drops away and he asks, too fast, "And then what?"

Kurt stares at him, as appraising as his gaze can be. And he knows _exactly_ what Blaine is asking for. "Oh my god," he squeaks high-pitched. "Seriously? You're trying this now?"

Blaine manages to remain calm. "Yes."

"But—"

Blaine waves an out-of-focus hand at him. "You said you wanted it. You said you missed me. You said if I was there you'd be kissing me." And he shrugs and shifts in his seat again.

"Yeah but…" Kurt trails off. "I'm not going to do _that_. Not over skype."

Blaine looks just ever so slightly hurt, maybe disappointed, god Kurt wishes he could see his face properly. Now he thinks he looks hopeful. "But you'll do it in person?" Blaine asks, and he sounds embarrassed. "When I get back you want to do _things_ in person?"

But Kurt's still terrified by even the idea. All those fantasies, such in depth, filthy ideas in his head but reality feels so much more real. "Well yeah, but we won't be _talking_ about it!"

"Oh," Blaine frowns. "Really?" Hopeful.

Motherfuck, fine, _fine, _in Kurt's head they _talk. _In Kurt's head he tells Blaine what to do and whispers really, embarrassingly sappy things in his ear, a fine mixture of cliché and stupidly in love. And he likes to think Blaine won't be able to talk much at all. But when he can, he'll say ridiculous in-love things back.

And then, sometimes, they're not so sappy, they're not about being in love and perfect and fitting together. He's watched porn, a lot, in the last three weeks, not really to enjoy it but to get ideas. And so he blames that for when he imagines Blaine saying some pretty awful things. But in such a good way. And he'll bite back saying things like 'fuck me' and 'come for me' and 'yeah, you like that?' for as long as is humanly possible when they're together but god does he want to hear himself say them. And he wants to listen to Blaine. Talking. Not talking but still making noise. Falling apart.

"Kurt…" It's a soft call and Blaine doesn't look half as upset as he was a minute ago and Kurt's drifted off again and blushes to imagine what Blaine thinks he was thinking about. Except it can't be as bad as what he actually was thinking about.

"I really would kiss you if you were here right now," Kurt whispers. "Just to get you to drop the subject."

Another shuffle and the image tilts, then settles and Kurt beats back a thought with an immense show of willpower.

"I know," Blaine mumbles out and Kurt has no idea _what _he knows. "And I miss kissing you, even though I know you do it to make me be quiet. I miss it and I've kept imagining it and it just…"

He trails off and Kurt cannot help but wonder. Because Blaine's playing a dangerous game and isn't the whole point…

"Blaine," he asks, voice level, "Are you?"

"What?" And Kurt watches as Blaine's eyes slide to his left and he looks...guilty. He looks...caught.

God, even his voice is caught, just a little. He so _is_.

"Are you turned on?" Kurt bites down on his tongue a second too late to catch the words and his cheeks must look tomato-red.

But Blaine just breathes out through his mouth and smiles shakily, glances down at…the keyboard, surely. "A little." And then worried and biting on his bottom lip and Kurt's always found that hot. He wishes Blaine bit down on _his _bottom lip like that. "Are _you_?"

Kurt shifts and he's happy with his legs crossed because he's been turned on, a little bit, the last five times Blaine's skyped him. "Yeah."

There's a pause, silent and uncomfortable and Kurt's trying to work out whether Blaine went somewhere dark and dead silent with this in mind—but no, this is, at it's core, Kurt's idea—and Blaine's trying to work out how to stop himself from angling his head pointlessly and glancing down the screen. Then he breathes out, "Tell me how you'd kiss me to shut me up?"

And Kurt laughs, low in his throat and it goes straight to Blaine's groin because this is real now. "Like I always kiss you to shut you up."

"I miss you doing that," Blaine interrupts.

"Shhh…" Kurt shifts, rocking forward, leaning closer into the field of view of the webcam perched on his desk and planting his feet back on the ground. God, this _is_ turning him on. "I just, I _would_ kiss you. If you were here."

"How?"

"Hard and," he closes his eyes and he has no idea whether it's to fight off the image of Blaine staring intently back at him or to imagine. "And really…open." He breathes deep and licks his lips and it's subconscious but a moan reverberates back at him through his speakers and he prays the sound isn't making it through the walls of his bedroom. "Blaine…" he lets it hang.

"I missed you," he simply whines back. "I missed kissing you every day of summer and getting to hold your hand and getting to smell you." Blaine's mouth closes with the click of his teeth.

And Kurt can't believe how turned on he is. He came less than half an hour ago to an idea that is so much more than Blaine sitting a million miles away and saying he missed the way he smelt. But he can't stop _thinking _about him and staring at the way his eyes are half-closed and the image is dark but his mouth is hanging open.

He thinks he's probably about to make a fool of himself. But then, he's coming to realize, when he's turned on and confronted with Blaine his inhibitions seem to drip away.

"When you get back," he starts, then stops, swallows to wet his mouth. "When I kiss you," another pause, his mind flooded with a thousand words, none of them quite right, but he tries. "It's going to be desperate. And wanting. I want… And…I can't wait to taste you, Blaine." He glances up at the screen, not sure when he looked away and down at his hands resting dormant on the keys. He'd think the image was frozen except he can map the movement of Blaine's Adam's apple sliding as he swallows and he can hear him breathing.

A smile plays about Kurt's lips and he keeps going. "I've forgotten even though I've tried so hard not to. And as soon as you get back I'm going to race you upstairs and kiss you like that."

There's a pause, because Kurt wants something back. "Like what?" is all Blaine stutters out.

"Like I'm hungry for you." He feels stupid for a moment at that but it's true. And Blaine's licking his lips and Kurt can watch his tongue and it's that same feeling now. "Like now," he admits. "It's like I'm starving and…and it's that ache you get low in you belly when you haven't eaten all day except it's all over me."

Blaine whispers, "Me too," and means it and Kurt swallows hard and grits his teeth to hear exactly how hungry his boyfriend's voice is, it's rough and aching with it.

Kurt huffs out a breath, turned on and enamored and still wondering how much embarrassment he's really feeling about all of this. And concludes: "So I'll kiss you like I'm hungry and my tongue will be in your mouth, trying to get the taste of you back, as soon as you kiss me and I don't think I'll be able to stop for hours." It comes out just a little bit rushed but Blaine groans—holy _fuck_ he just made Blaine Anderson groan over skype—and the image on Kurt's screen tilts and moves and Blaine's face is cast into even more shadows, even further away.

"And then what?" Blaine mumbles, voice still stuttering at a lower than usual register.

Biting his lip again, Kurt wonders why he's the only one divulging, why Blaine's fidgeting now, angling his head and shifting and intermittently staring and then not staring straight at him. But Blaine is most definitely turned on and so is Kurt, he's not even vaguely surprised that turning Blaine on turns him on just as much. So he whispers, "I'd just want to keep tasting," and lets it hang, lets Blaine take it however he wants to take it and stares wide-eyed as Blaine's own eyes flicker shut and the laptop slides dangerously to the side. Kurt thinks…he thinks… "I'd want to kiss that spot behind your neck and lick it—" Blaine breath hitches, it spurs Kurt on, of course. "You taste so strongly of you there, you know." And oh god, what an admission. "Salty and Blaine and…" he stops himself from saying 'mine'. But says, "I want to taste everywhere else." And then wonders if Blaine will later think he has some sort of fetish for tasting. Shit, maybe he does.

But Blaine's hips rock and the laptop slides sideways again before Blaine catches it, steadies it and stares. His breath is too quick, his cheeks the wrong kind of red for simple blushing.

"Blaine, what are you doing?" Kurt asks, anticipating, _wanting_, the answer.

But Blaine swallows, the shift in his throat a dance of white-blue light and that's when Kurt realizes he's sweating as well and he rolls his hips, his cock hard, starting to ache in that perfect way in his pants.

"Blaine?" Kurt tries again.

Blaine whines just loud enough for Kurt to hear and closes his eyes as he asks, sounding embarrassed and high-pitched and Kurt had no idea he had that power until _now_. "What do you want me to say?"

"Tell me the truth," Kurt whispers and throws a cursory glance to the image of himself in the corner of his screen, just to check what's in the show before he slides a hand down the front of his pyjama pants and lays his hand as dangerously close to his cock as he dare.

"I…I…" Blaine stammers to a halt, face blushing red over the heat in his cheeks already. He stares, breathes deep. "I'm touching myself."

Kurt's hand slips lower, fingertips just brushing the base, tracking over the hair and making the muscles of his thighs tense. "How?"

Blaine keeps staring and now, _now,_ Kurt sees a shoulder work, just a little. "Just over the denim. Just to relieve…" he mumbles off and Kurt grins and feels wicked, feels like he's cheating, as he wraps his hand around his length and strokes just once, while Blaine closes his eyes and tries to collect himself.

Kurt thinks maybe, just maybe, in a few minutes he'll hate himself for all of this, thinks it will have been a huge mistake. But he is so hard and they've barely talked, they've mostly just stared at each other and he's gotten to watch Blaine get turned on just from the idea of Kurt kissing him.

Oh he is going to regret this in the morning but _fuck_ he really, really wants, he aches with it and he needs and..."I think you should undo your pants," Kurt dares, eyes flickering as he internally berates himself for even thinking such a thing.

"Really?" it comes out high-pitched because on the other end of the connection, Blaine is also _stupidly_ turned on. Because he's been dreaming of coming home and kissing Kurt but that's it. He daren't entertain thoughts beyond and yet Kurt's sitting there talking like that and now he does imagine everything else, he can't stop himself. And Kurt just basically told him to start jerking off. Kurt wants to watch him jerking off. It's terrifying and brilliant all at once.

And Blaine's moving too fast for skype to keep up and Kurt's pouting about it but when Blaine settles back, still only visible from the chest up, and oh Kurt wishes that weren't the case, his shoulder is definitely shifting and he's smiling and blushing.

"Is your laptop on your knees?" Kurt asks because he thinks it must be with all the tilting and sliding it's been doing.

"Yeah."

Kurt wants to tell him that's pretty stupid and he should find a desk or a table or something but just as he's about to he realizes how easy it would be for Blaine to angle the screen down and let him _see_. Kurt wonders exactly what he'd see. He wonders exactly what Blaine's hand looks like around his cock. He wonders just how low his pants are. Whether he'd be able to see his balls. And he's thought about it before but now… "God, that's…" he does sound turned on. A lot. And his hand is squeezing around his own cock and setting up a slow stroke and he wonders if Blaine knows yet.

There's a huff of air as Blaine breathes out hard through his nose. "Yeah, look, Kurt, I need to—" he begins but Kurt cuts him off.

"Tell me how you do it." Again with his run away mouth and the hot red color in his cheeks.

Blaine makes another choked off sob of a sound and Kurt has to grit his teeth not to return it. "Do what?" Blaine asks, blatantly already knowing the answer but wanting to hear Kurt say it.

"How you touch yourself…" he trails off. "I want to know so when you get back…" he trails off again and watches Blaine arch and pump his arm faster, a little more surely. Kurt really, really wishes he could see him. All of him.

"Kurt, if we keep going…If _you_ keep going, I'll…" the look he's giving Kurt is in earnest and he's biting his lip again, slowing. _Fuck_.

"I want—" Kurt bites it back, tries a different route, daring—oh my god, he thinks he's probably lost his mind—to reach out to where his little webcam perched above his computer and angle it down, just enough that when he sinks back into his chair, the image of him being thrown across the Atlantic is from belly button up and the arm across his stomach, still clad in his pyjama top, can't possibly be ignored by Blaine. "Me too," he whispers out.

And Blaine gets it and groans and arches in his seat and the laptop slides back, completely away and Kurt's left with an image that's mostly darkness, maybe a ceiling and chuckling while his stomach clenches and Blaine scrambles. In the few seconds where the image is fuzzy and random, Kurt swears he catches a glimpse of Blaine licking across his palm. And that's…insane, and Kurt's reaching in to the desk drawer and single-handedly finding the lube he threw there only a half hour ago and squeezing some into his palm.

Blaine misses it completely, probably luckily. "Kurt," he ends up whispering when he's righted again and fidgeting with the screen, Kurt thinks, to make sure it's angled up.

"Tell me how to touch you," Kurt whispers, and sure, he ripped that line from a Cosmo magazine, but he means it.

Blaine whines and Kurt's never heard him _whine_. Shit, half of the things Blaine's done, Kurt's never seen, has only imagined and they are so, _so_, much better in real life. Well. On skype. He can only imagine how amazing they'd be together.

"I…" Blaine can't do it and Kurt has a momentary rush of feeling amazing and in control and being _better _at sex for the time being. He stills his hand, on second thought, because he can feel everything going too tight and too hot and he wants to wait.

"How, Blaine?"

"However you wanted," Blaine mumbles, eyes flickering closed again, lips pressed around words he's not letting out, Kurt thinks. "I mean, I think, I think your fingers are so long and…and your hands are so damn smooth." His nostrils flare. "But so strong. When we hold hands…god, please don't hate me…sometimes I can't help but think about your hands…on me."

And oh, _fuck_, Kurt is getting close, even though he's doing his best not to give himself enough friction, because Blaine's right there, talking about letting Kurt touch him.

"What else?" Kurt asks, voice high, catching.

The laptop tilts dangerously again. "I don't know, I really…" Blaine stutters and blushes hard and Kurt can't stop looking at the way the light seems to refract through the sweat on his neck and his forehead, the ways his eyes are dark and shining at the same time. "Just _touch_ me."

Kurt swallows. "I would, you know. When you get back, I _will_. And I want to know how," a pause, he gives himself a last chance to back out and start talking about kisses again. "You could show me now?"

"_Fuck,"_ is Blaine's only response, for several seconds as his head presses back into the wall behind him. "Really, you want…?"

"I really, really do," Kurt says, realizing only after he's said it that it sounded almost as though he were begging.

"I'm on a mac," Blaine whines and Kurt arches an eyebrow and doesn't understand. "If I angle it down so you can see my—" he closes his mouth too quickly and Kurt grins before he can stop himself. "I won't be able to see you."

But Kurt aches with wanting to see _him_. Even pixelated and lagging and he really fucking hates Europe right now. The whole goddamn continent.

"I…oh fuck," Kurt murmurs out, his hand, seemingly of it's own volition tightening around his cock, squeezing at the head. Oh he _aches_.

And Blaine just heard him swear and it's the hottest thing ever and he's babbling, "I can…I can't...Kurt, I'm _close_. I am so, _so_, close."

Kurt groans and wants but pulls his hand away, up to the screen to show Blaine. "Let me watch," he begs. "Let me see you now and when you come home and we do this it won't be so awkward." Oh it will, he knows that, but it's a nice lie. "I'll know how to touch you." Blaine shudders. "I'll know how you like it."

"Kurt…"

He sounds on edge and looks it and Kurt has his right hand over his own heart and his left at the keyboard. "Show me," he tells him. "Let me," his mouth is bone dry and his cock is hard in his pants and Blaine is whimpering at him. Because of him. "Let me watch you come."

Blaine bucks up into his hand and catches the laptop with the other, sucking in a audible breath and staring hard at Kurt who manages to just stare back, lust and want and begging in his eyes and both hands there, waiting.

And then Blaine tilts the screen down and Kurt's breath catches harsh in his throat as he waits for the picture to catch up, to adjust from too white a reflection off sweat and skin in close-up. And he can't see Blaine's face but he can hear him, breathing hard and holy fuck this is so much better than porn.

It's just Blaine's hand, wrapped around his cock and Kurt gets an instant idea of size and width and feels everything about him shifting to try to think exactly what that would feel like. Red and big in Blaine's hand, thicker than Kurt's own, he thinks, not by much and not by the standards set by the porn he's watched, but exactly enough to feel amazing in his mouth, his throat. Everywhere.

God, up against his. Pressed together against their stomachs as they kiss like the world is ending. He might have actually breathed out "Perfect" but he hardly cares because Blaine is. All dark jeans undone and open, shirt rucked up to mid-stomach, dark hair and too-white skin in the camera's contrast and Kurt wants him home _now. _

But his hand's frozen, squeezing hard, Kurt thinks, but unmoving, at the base of his cock and Kurt's about to tell him to move when he finds himself leaning forward and staring intently at what he thinks, oh god, maybe, fucking resolution, he thinks there's precome pooling in his slit.

He's not touching himself but he feels everything about him pulse and his mind flood and he wonders if he can come with a hand on his heart and one on the desk. "Blaine, you gotta move."

"Talk to me," Blaine whispers, face out of view but Kurt can almost imagine how desperate he must look as his hand strokes up, his thumb rubbing a fast circle around the head and slicking the wetness down the side, over a slightly purple vein Kurt can just make out and he moans. Then Blaine stills.

What on earth is he meant to say? Kurt opens and closes his mouth, three times, and he's happy Blaine can't see his screen at this point and can only hear him. He bites back at line after line of filth or adoration and incoherent swearing that presents itself as an option because Blaine wants to hear something hot, Blaine wants to come and Kurt wants, he _needs_, to make him.

"Fuck," he breathes out, hand from his heart coming up to slide over his face. "I can't wait to touch you like that. Except I wouldn't be stopping," he adds, thinking it's playful, not expecting Blaine's hand to jerk into action and start stroking. "I don't know how you like it," Kurt adds, sounding timid, unsure, but talking made Blaine move so he has to keep going now. "But, I think tight and…fast. I think when you get back, the first time, I'll just want it to happen so I can see you come." He doesn't even hesitate and he can hear Blaine moaning, breathing hard. Can see the shift of his stomach muscles as he breathes or holds back. Something.

"I just…" his voice does fall away now, gone with his breath as Blaine's wrist flicks and his hand twists around and he lets something broken escape his lips. "I just really want to see you come." A swallow because he has to say it because he wants to and if he doesn't say it now he's sure it'll be all he can think about and he'll end up saying it over coffee or at the movies or something so much more mortifying than here, in the heat of it all and a million miles away. "And I want to taste you, god Blaine, you have no idea how badly. I want to taste every single square inch of you but mostly _you_."

He wonders if Blaine knows what he means, thinks by the way his moan slips into a growl, he might. He thinks maybe that was a good sound and he can't stop himself from stretching a hand down and squeezing because he needs to relieve just a little of the pressure.

"That's the thing I think about when I come," he's whispering, half-turned on, half-terrified but Blaine's hand is a blur and the sounds he's making, god _the sounds_. "I can be thinking about anything while I'm—" oh god, he _can't_ say 'jerking off' or 'rubbing one out' or…he can't. "When I'm getting there," he settles and blushes and squeezes his eyes tight shut: this still feels stupid. Stupid and really fucking hot.

"But when I come," and yet he can say 'come', "I always think about you in my mouth." Bites down on his lip. "Coming." Oh fuck, if this is not Blaine's thing, if this is…"Or licking it off my hands. Your hands," he wonders if someone offered him a million dollars to shut up, whether he'd be able to do it. "Your stomach. I—"

Blaine cuts him off—probably luckily—with a high-pitched keening of his name. "Kurt. Kurt, fuck, I'm gonna…" the rest is lost in a moan and Kurt closes his mouth and opens his eyes and stares.

"Come on Blaine," he whispers, a stark moment where, even if Blaine laughs at him or is completely weirded out by him, Kurt thinks it will have been worth it. "Come for me." Oh, well, fine he stole that from like a billion pornos.

Evidently Blaine doesn't care because he keens Kurt's name again, so pitchy and breathless and manages to stammer out across a half a dozen syllables "I'm—" before he's growling low in his throat and his hand is stuttering to a stop clenched tight around his cock midway and then pumping in little tiny jolts and Kurt watches, unable to blink, as Blaine comes _hard_, cock big and red and—oh Kurt _must_ be imagining it—throbbing. Line after line of come spurting from Blaine's cock and painting streaks across his stomach, across his shirt.

Actually, this skype connection isn't that bad after all.

And Kurt's left holding his breath and staring at the image, at Blaine's cock slipping from his grip and onto his thigh, of his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, pulling it down to cover the mess and probably acutely aware that there are white streaks across the material, too. Kurt's mouth waters and his hand's sliding into his pants and wrapping around his own cock without him thinking about it, setting up a tight, hot pace that he immediately knows he doesn't really need.

"Kurt?" Blaine calls, screen angling back up so that Kurt can see his face—stunningly flushed and shining with sweat— and Blaine can see his as he bites down on his bottom lip and a whimper escapes, too loud. "Kurt…"

Kurt has no comprehension of what Blaine wants to say at this point. Whether he's embarrassed or upset or about to say 'Thank you' but he doesn't really care either. He lets his lip pull free of his teeth and gulps a breath, hand on his cock moving faster still and he is _close_. "Please…" he begs, all high pitched and longing and he stares hard at Blaine who looks beautiful and sated and insanely gorgeous post-orgasm.

"Let me see," Blaine mutters, sounding hoarse and turned on again. "God, Kurt, you gotta let me."

He scrambles, a mess of limbs and his hand trying to stroke at he stands, Blaine given a view of his mid-section as he leans and grapples, almost drops the camera and then yanks it forward and he can't even _think_ how self-conscious and unsure he should be feeling about this because he just aches from his bones out and everything inside him feels too hot and too tight and he wonders if sex with Blaine will always feel like this. Scrambles more, angles the camera and stands up straighter, stands with his thighs pressed against his desk, rocking into the fist of his hand and angles the camera until he can see in his feedback image that the view is from an off-centre angle and close and utterly obscene.

"Fuck," comes Blaine's breathless response and Kurt can see his eyes going wider, his lips pressing and then wet with his tongue, his throat working to swallow. "_Fuck_, Kurt, you're amazing."

Kurt rolls his eyes at that and thinks it's ridiculous but works his cock harder anyway, tightens his grip and debates the appropriateness of reaching down and playing with his balls. Fuck, something deep inside him presents itself and makes him want to angle the camera at his bed and splay and writhe and show Blaine _everything_.

But there's no time. None and he just begs Blaine again, "Blaine, _please."_

"What do you…." Blaine trails off and Kurt's eyes screw shut and he concentrates on the sound of Blaine's breathing, wants to come off of just that.

"Anything." He moans it out and feels wanton and desperate and needier than ever.

Blaine bites his lip, bites something back and Kurt growls at him, can't stop himself.

"I can't wait, Kurt," he whispers, leaning forward into the screen. "I want that to be my hand and I want to kiss you senseless when you come and swallow all these sounds and press so damn close and—" He could have gone on but he loses his voice when Kurt's other hand stretches upwards, a shelf, Blaine thinks, and then drops, pushes the keyboard to the side and then grips at the edge of the desk beside his thigh.

"Blaine," he whimpers. Then "_Blaine_" again. And again and his hips jerk forward with too much energy and his back arches and Kurt's swallowing as much as he can of the keening, desperate high noise he can't help but make because he's never felt it coil this hot, this tight, never ever for this long, in his balls. And then he squeezes tight around his cock, chokes for air and then holds as still as he can, staring down as he comes across the pine-colored wood of his desk, no tissues, no keyboard, because he wants Blaine to _watch_. Holds still and thinks to look at Blaine's face which is just open-mouthed and open-eyed and still so flushed and sweaty.

Hips rocking forward again as something that sounds like a groaning sob falls from his lips and come drips from the head of his cock, the last of him spent and now aching with wanting to fall to the floor and breathe. He comes down slowly, shifts from bliss to sated and happy and then realizes Blaine's eyes are still wide, his lips hanging open and giggles.

Oh god, he giggles and Blaine blushes at him and then Kurt remember he's standing there, pants around his thighs, dick out and softening and still slicked with lube and come. He swallows, embarrassment creeping back in and yanks his pants up, slides back down into his seat and tilts the camera back towards his face.

"Well…" Blaine says. And he _sounds_ happy, seems to be smiling.

But embarrassment is creeping back in for Kurt and he can't _believe_ they just did that. That was meant to be a conversation. He shifts, his cock uncomfortable in his pants now, too sticky and lewd and, shit, what _exactly_ was it he said to Blaine? How much did he reveal?

"Well?" Blaine asks again, this time a question, a little worried.

"Yeah," Kurt just says, trying to stop his cheeks from burning even brighter.

"You okay?" Blaine says after a beat.

"Just…yeah, no, I'm fine." Kurt doesn't know where to put hands. Not in his lap. Not, oh definitely not, on the desk. They're hanging useless by his sides and he feels ridiculous. Oh my god, the things he _said_.

Blaine's just smiling. "I can't believe that," he's saying. "I can't believe _you."_

Kurt tries to chuckle convincingly, winces just a little. What was he thinking? All of that was fine inside his head but now Blaine's looking at him like he doesn't know him.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just…" he takes a deep breath, "Freaking out a bit."

Blaine goes still and his smile falls away. "You think we shouldn't have done that?"

"No!" Kurt sucks in a breath. "I mean, maybe, if it's going to make things weird. I just…I'm sorry, I got a bit carried away." Kurt's biting his lip again, his lip that is starting to ache from all the biting. And Blaine's looking at him with a furrowed brow, like he's not sure.

Shit, Blaine's not sure.

"I just didn't expect that," Kurt says, and he mostly means that he wasn't able to keep his obscene fantasies well and truly to himself. They just came together, for the first time, over skype. He feels like such the deviant.

"Neither did I," Blaine says carefully.

Kurt takes it personally and doesn't know what to say from there. He can't tell if Blaine's blissed out but freaking out as well. Or just confused. Or just trying to disguise the fact that he is utterly, utterly shocked by it all. "I think…" Kurt steadies himself, palms flat in the air beside him. "I think I want to talk about this face to face. Just, work things out, I don't want this to be weird. I really don't Blaine."

He tries so hard to sound like a good boyfriend because he knows about sex now, and knows it happens and wants to get there, fuck he _wants_. Obviously. And a lot. But fuck… over skype… where he falls into the trap of thinking he's alone and mumbling things out loud he really shouldn't even be thinking about yet. In person would be better.

Blaine interrupts his train of thought. "I'm out front."

"What?" _What?_

Blaine takes a deep breath and looks away. "I'm parked in front of your house."

"You're in Europe," Kurt says dumbly.

"Nope. I'm right outside." He at least has the decency to sound sheepish about it.

* * *

><p>…Don't hate me. There's a second part. It'll be up probably late this weekend. Certainly before new Glee. And…and…like I never get the chance to post in parts! Ever! Because it's smut. But this time. I did! So. I did! Don't hate me. This should have been very fulfilling on it's own. Phew. Kurt.<p>

Yay?


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: _Okay, first off, thank you to see-clarity for the beta work and a making time to read through this on short notice and, mostly, great discussions about what the hell I was trying to write and how to write it. And helping me put together the ending. Also to hepburngirl for listening to me bitch and moan about this A LOT.

And thank you to all of you for all your messages, reviews, likes and reblogs. Made me a very happy camper and has totally spurred me on with writing this and other things! Hopefully it manages to live up to expectation. One more WIP I'd really like to get off my plate pre-Glee but we shall see.

SMUTTY McSMUT SMUT follows…

* * *

><p>Kurt stumbles over words for a second, all of them catching in his throat as his lips move but no sound comes out. "Why didn't you tell me?" he hisses.<p>

"I just…" Blaine trails off. "You kind of were all over me, figuratively speaking, and I kept meaning to and you kept interrupting and…saying _things_. And I got carried away. I'm sorry."

Kurt stares hard, brow creasing low, and wonders what on earth to do now that Blaine's sitting outside in his car. Fuck, must be in the backseat with his laptop perched on his knees and he just jerked off. In his car, screen illuminating his cock, out in front of Kurt's house. Fuck, but that's actually kind of hot.

"I should have told you straight away and we should have talked about this properly and I'm sorry that I pushed, I don't want you to freak out, I really, really don't." Blaine takes a breath, presses his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose. "And…you missed me. It was…a distance thing. But I'm back and I missed _you_. So much and if doing…that made you freak out then I am totally fine with waiting and not doing it in person. Completely. I just…I _missed_ you. And I fell over myself getting you back even if it was over skype and I get how ridiculous that is. But I only want to be around you. We don't have to do anything. Okay, Kurt?" Kurt really, really loves his rambling, slightly panicked boyfriend. "Please just say we're okay."

"We're okay," Kurt reassures, then asks in a small voice, "And you really wouldn't mind if we just…didn't."

"Yeah, we won't." Blaine rattles out, the hand raking through his hair now. "This wasn't what was meant to happen, you know. I was going to show up and surprise you and we can still do that. I'll go home and come back tomorrow and we can cuddle on the couch and I can tell you all about my trip. I'll bring you flowers. Shit, I _brought_ you flowers." A fancy bouquet of yellow and white appears in the image for a moment and Kurt's heart skips a beat; Blaine brought him flowers. "I'll come back tomorrow and we can pretend it never happened," Blaine's voice breaks at the end and Kurt can see the frown tugging at his lips.

Kurt considers this all with an arched eyebrow and still unsteady breath. "Really? Because you sound…" he lets the sentence trail off.

The flowers drop away to the side and Blaine runs a hand roughly over his face, then growls. Holy _fuck_, Blaine, romantic, bringing-him-flowers but sated and sweaty and staring right down the camera from a million miles away but just out the front, he _growls. _"I sound like I'm aching?"

Kurt's voice is still small and, he tells himself, he's still freaking out, but that's exactly how Blaine sounds. "Yeah."

Blaine huffs out a breath and won't make eye contact through the screen but he won't lie either. "I am. I…you said you ached for me." Now he looks, catches Kurt's gaze and won't let it go. "It makes me ache for you. But I can wait. I would much rather wait for you to be really ready than jump the gun and ruin it."

Kurt's chewing his bottom lip. Again. "You don't think this has already ruined it?"

Blaine laughs but the sound has too much of an electronic edge and is bitter anyway. But he tries so hard to smile and relax. "It was over skype," he says, "It was…" he trails off because he really wants to say 'amazing' and 'the hottest thing I've ever seen' and 'shit Kurt, can we just fall into bed and never stop'. But that's pressure, so he says, "We can pretend it never happened."

"What if I don't want to?" Kurt wonders out loud because Blaine, talking like this, is making his stomach knot again and Blaine hasn't said a thing about _him_ not wanting to do it, all of it, again.

But Blaine just shakes his head. "You were freaking out, Kurt."

Kurt hurriedly replies, "I wasn't freaking out that it _happened_. I was freaking out that you were freaking out because—" he stutters to a stop. "Um," he stares down and Blaine thinks he's wringing his hands out of view. "I said some things."

Oh _god_. "You said you wanted to taste me." The thought hasn't slipped far from his mind since Kurt mumbled it through a breathless groan and now it's slipping past Blaine's lips, front and center.

Kurt pauses, dumbstruck and burning bright red and biting his lip because it's completely true and hearing Blaine say it makes it _hot_. That's exactly what he said, he remembers because the thought keeps circling back through his head.

Blaine breathes out harshly, losing some internal battle because, yeah they can forget this but for now, he can't rein himself in, find composure again and he _knows _what Kurt meant. "You didn't just mean you want to blow me at some undefined point in future. You meant you wanted to be here with me now and taste _me_."

"Yeah, I said that. And I'm freaking out that I said it," Kurt babbles, voice breaking from surprise and nervousness. Because Blaine doesn't seem freaked out at all now, he seems turned on and god, Kurt kind of wishes they were having this talk in person, but kind of also wishes they weren't.

"Because it's not true?" Blaine asks and it's so obvious from his voice that he hopes that's not the case.

"Oh Blaine," he murmurs, still all embarrassment. "I just…that's a bit much, isn't it?"

"For you or for me?" Such a strained voice and his expression still shrouded in darkness. Kurt wishes he could read his face more easily.

"For you, I thought," he answers carefully.

"It's not. "

"Oh. "

There's an uncomfortable long silence that only lasts a few moments and then Blaine asks, "Do you still mean it?"

Kurt hesitates only a second. Because he wouldn't lie about it even if Blaine wasn't seemingly fine. "Yes. "

"And you're not freaking out because this was too soon?" Blaine clarifies.

"You're not?" Because Kurt really, really isn't. And he wants to do it again. And, fuck, he really wants to do it in person. He wants to touch. He still wants to taste. Skin and sweat and come.

Blaine takes another deep breath and goddamn it, Kurt's stopped freaking out, he's stopped and now he's just _missing _his boyfriend. And the ache is back. The ache for intimacy and fun and touch.

But Blaine says, crystal clear, even over skype, "No, not freaking out about this. I think I could do this thing with you on my bed—properly—three times a day every day from now until forever and it still wouldn't be enough."

Kurt's breath catches and he mumbles, "I missed you so much," and then, suddenly he can feel his eyes prickling with the threat of tears.

He can hear Blaine breathing and looks up to see his brow low in consideration.

"Can you hang on a minute?" Kurt asks in a rush and then slides out of view without waiting for an answer.

Blaine strains to hear anything going on, wonders what exactly has torn Kurt away at a moment like this. He wants to kick himself for not pulling everything to a halt, stopping the madness that was getting off with your boyfriend for the first time over skype. While sitting out in front of said boyfriend's house. God, he hopes this all works out. At least Kurt isn't freaking out anymore.

He keeps staring at the screen, he sighs and worries and fiddles and almost drops his laptop for the umpteenth time that night when there's a loud tapping on the window and there's Kurt, staring in, staring at where Blaine's cock is still mostly exposed and half-hard from too much thinking about things he's been promising to forget. Blaine scrambles, moving his laptop to the middle seat of the SUV, his pants pulled higher and held around his hips tight while he ignores the wet sticky mess there, and him backing up to the seat opposite the door Kurt's knocking at.

Kurt's grinning, and Blaine must look like a wide-eyed fool but underneath all of it both of them are breathing a deep sigh of relief just to have the other back.

Kurt knocks again, rapping his knuckles against the window and raising an eyebrow at Blaine. Blaine, still holding his pants up, leans over, shifts the laptop to the front seat, now, and unlocks the door.

And Kurt's falling into the car, uncoordinated and yanking the door closed behind him and leaning in, hands on the window and the seat to either side of his boyfriend and kissing him. Just mouth on mouth, nothing else touching except where their knees knock in the too-small space, and kissing hungrily, like he said he would. All tongues and tasting and taking without asking, licking into Blaine's mouth over and over, across his tongue and moaning then, pulling back to look at him and press his lips together and swallow. Kissing him again, over and over, pressing his mouth to his bottom lip then his chin, then his cheeks and mumbling between the kisses, "Please, please let his not be weird."

And then Kurt pulls back further, searching for a hint of rejection, any hesitation, anything that says this is a mistake. But it's all love and lust and surprise and in eyes that are finally the right colour, the right sparkle, even here in the darkness, it's so, _so_, much more real than through the internet.

"I missed you so much," Blaine whispers and his hands slide up the backs of Kurt's thighs, the cotton of his pyjama pants not hiding the strength or the heat or the tremble there at all. He lets Kurt kiss his jaw, lets him lap at the sweat still sticking to his neck, feels him mumble something into it without really meaning to and lets his hands slide higher, around his ass and squeezing, just a little, just daring to do it because, he thinks, maybe he can.

"How are you back?" Kurt asks between gasps.

"I missed you."

Kurt can't believe it. "So you just came home?"

"I was sulking," he admits as he presses a kiss to Kurt's neck. "I told my parents I wanted to leave early. And they didn't question it. So here I am."

"You left Europe a week early to be with me?" Kurt balances, moving closer, knees against the edge of the seat on the outside of Blaine's legs, one hand still keeping distance between them, leaning against the back of the seat. The other hand he winds into Blaine's hair, pulls just a little roughly to expose more of his neck and he forgets he's never done that in reality until Blaine's hips snap up hard under his and there's a whisper, just a whisper, of contact between them and they both moan.

Blaine's hips settle back as they stare, wonder if they could just fall into each other and rock like they instinctively want to and Kurt really, really wants to reach down and push Blaine's pants out of the way, his shirt up and _press_.

"Missed Paris, Versailles and Bordeaux to be with you," Blaine mumbles.

And with a jolt, Kurt sees all of it. The last days of summer, Blaine back and his, all his and, "No one's at your house, then?"

Blaine just shakes his head dumbly as Kurt tries to get more space between them, the heat from Blaine's body making him want to fall. But he can't, muscles already aching from holding himself up, will bending to see Blaine beneath him so turned on. He can't possibly pull himself all the way off when he wants so badly to collapse against him, kiss and touch, hands on his cheeks, in his hair. Not yet. Oh but he wants to.

"Let's go," he says simply.

"Your dad…" Blaine says but it's utterly lacking in conviction and his eyes are cast down, down to where his hands aren't holding his pants up and there's a sliver of dark skin, coarse hair showing. He breathes deep and glances up to make sure Kurt sees his shirt creep higher with the shift, an inch of belly and nothing else but Kurt licks his lips.

"Have me home by seven and no one will know. Actually, bring me home and stay for breakfast and we'll just say you came over early."

And then, a week alone in Blaine's house, a week of whatever they like before Blaine's parents come back and then school and everything else complicated returns and Kurt wants this to be as easy as falling. He wants to let Blaine creep further under his skin and start whispering about all the dirty, not-so-innocent things he wants to do to him, wants to start doing them, wants, _wants_, Blaine to like them.

Because Kurt held back for so long. He pushed everything down because he never suspected he'd have anybody like Blaine in Ohio. He wasn't even sure he'd find anybody out of Ohio, it just never felt real. But under him, Blaine feels so real. From that first kiss, Blaine has been real and willing and wanting. Blaine _wants_ him. And Kurt's mind has run away with a thousand possibilities and he's kind of starting to think he might be a bit adventurous and kinky and god knows. And now, just now as Blaine stares up at him and arches his hips up and by god, they are not pretending amazing things like this didn't happen. Now Kurt thinks maybe that's okay.

Better than okay. But small steps, because he's only been letting himself think these things for months. Has never—with the exception of fifteen minutes ago—uttered the out loud and he can feel them, awkward, on his tongue.

A week, so now he gives in a little, he lets his hand leave the window, slides his fingers into Blaine's hair, lacing them with his other hand there and slowly lowers his hips until he's straddling Blaine's legs. And he's so hard, no underwear, just sweaty thin cotton, and it's obvious and Blaine gasps to see it or feel it or whatever. But Blaine arches and Kurt stops breathing because Blaine's hands grab at his back, fingers splaying into the dip, thumb at his waist, steadying them both and Kurt can see the head of Blaine's cock, flushed red and just there sliding free of his clothes.

Blaine grins at him lopsided and blushes but doesn't cover up. "You're sure we're doing this?"

Kurt leans in and they share another kiss, this one slow and sure and then Kurt pulls back and lets his teeth scratch across a cheek, down Blaine's jaw and then down his neck. He rocks his hips down, tilts to try to get some contact and moans to feel the muscle of Blaine's thigh against his balls. And then he opens his eyes and stares, scratches his fingernails across Blaine's scalp and says, "Not everything. Not yet. But naked. And touching. I want that. I want to watch you again. With proper lights and no pixels. Or lag." He pauses, stares, tangles his fingers and kisses against at Blaine's neck. "I want to tell you what I think."

Blaine's brow creases and Kurt sees it as he pulls back. God, why does it feel so _awkward_. "I want to tell you _everything_ I think," he tries again. "I think…a lot." And he blushes and Blaine chuckles but his breath catches at the same time and he nods.

Then Blaine laughs some more, his own cheeks red, breathless, awkward but happy and whispering out, "About tasting?" as something of a joke but also not, Kurt hopes. Blaine's hands sink down from the small of Kurt's back until his fingertips are at the waistband of his pants and he's angling him differently, pulling him forward just a few inches, tempting him and making them both gasp even though there's no contact. "I really, really missed you."

Kurt laughs back and finds Blaine's mouth with his own. "I really, really missed things we haven't done yet," he says. And this, he thinks, is when he should pull back and away and move to the front passenger seat. Wait for Blaine to follow him, get behind the wheel and drive them somewhere with a bed and lights. But thinking about it, about what they might do tonight, about the anticipation and the strange lack of apprehension he seems to be feeling, makes him want to stay.

"I—" Kurt stops, starts again, feeling bold and so turned on, fuck, turned on _again_, because his boyfriend is back and kissing him in ways they've never kissed before and letting him lick and bite and suck. It feels better than ever.

They're going to do this back at Blaine's house, he's at least going to try to do it, so why not now, when he wants to. "You said it wasn't weird. You said it wasn't too much…" he trails off and slides a hand down Blaine's side to where he's yanked his shirt down and his pants up but forgotten to hold on to them while he kisses Kurt. To where even more of his cock has slipped free and it looks gorgeous like the rest of him and what a strange thing to think about someone's cock. "You have to tell me to stop if I do something you don't like."

It's all far too easy to slide a hand under Blaine's shirt and trail fingertips down his stomach—wet and sticky, sweat and come—press an open palm to the hair at the base of his cock and groan into Blaine's mouth because there are muscles there that Kurt can feel working, a shiver he feels through his hand, and Blaine's _letting_ him. Letting him wrap his fingers around him and stroke and Blaine almost blacks out, muttering "Jesus," then "_Fuck_."

And Kurt stops and sends his hand up Blaine's stomach again and there's just a little come left on his skin, still warm, so sticky and this could all be terrible, Kurt reasons, this could be gross but he has to try.

So he pulls his hand back, holds it between them for a moment, their eyes locked, and then he laps across the skin of his palm. Blaine arches and bucks, says Kurt's name and then his abdomen clenches, muscles holding him together and Kurt's angled close enough to feel it through his legs and his own belly and he licks again and oh god, this isn't gross. This is hot. Tastes salty and acidic and thick on his tongue.

He glances at Blaine who's staring back all open-mouthed and wide-eyed lust, his cock hard and red and jutting out from the gap between shirt and pants and Kurt wants to stare at it, and trace every contour, every vein, taste every inch and commit it to memory. But he also wants more of just this.

And Blaine wants it too. Blaine _wants_ this.

There's a streak of come across the fabric of Blaine's shirt and Kurt leans it and sucks on the material, lusting after the taste and everything it means is happening and pressing it to the roof of his mouth and hearing Blaine moan, feeling his knees shake just a little. Kurt needs more of this boy. He missed him. He can't believe he's back. He can't believe he'll ever, ever let him leave again.

And Kurt's in awe of the way Blaine's hips have started rocking, the bob of his cock mesmerising, and his body twisting where he's pressed back hard against the car seat. "I'm barely even touching you," he says.

"You don't have to."

"I want…"Kurt trails off again. He wants to _talk_ but he doesn't know how to stop himself once he starts. He's terrified there's too much in his head.

"You like it?" Blaine interrupts.

Kurt just swallows and runs his tongue across the front of his teeth, not in a seductive way; he's trying to find the right words. Except Blaine stretches forward and grabs at him with both hands, dragging him forward, into his lap and pulling him flush against him, his hips pressing up instantly, so fast, and Kurt's only coherent thought is _'Holy fuck that's Blaine's cock' _before Blaine's pressing and gasping into his mouth.

And Blaine's tongue has never been that rough, that demanding. So hungry against his. Groaning obscenely against his lips and sliding across his tongue, trying to draw saliva and come and taste back into his mouth until Kurt feels himself getting light-headed and pulls away sucking in breath and they're left staring at each other while their hips keep rocking because they can't stop.

Blaine manages to say around a smile and hitched breath, "God, Kurt."

And it makes Kurt's laugh and lift, just a little, just a little less contact so he can look down at where Blaine's bare cock in pressing against the cotton-covered outline of his own before he misses the rough friction and presses his hips back down.

"We need to go," Blaine mumbles, lips catching over Kurt's tongue then licking up his chin and it feels so _dirty_. "Back to my house," Blaine tries again, but his hands are grabbing at the back of Kurt's shirt, scrunching it slowly up as his hands move down until they skim over hot skin and then find the waistband of his pants, thumbs tucking under and tracking around to the front, rubbing back and forth across the soft skin stretched taut over Kurt's belly.

He pulls back from the kiss long enough to stare hard at Kurt and Kurt knows he's still searching for doubt, still not sure that it wasn't a freak out because this is all too much too soon. And so Kurt huffs and kisses Blaine hard, teeth around his bottom lip drawing back, tugging at him, "I just don't want to accidentally say something that freaks you out," he murmurs.

Blaine's breath catches and Kurt's hands slide lower, knock Blaine's out of the way and are pushing his cotton pants down as far as he can with his legs spread wide over Blaine's. Hooking them under his cock and then rocking forward and up and sliding his length alongside Blaine's and they both moan high-pitched and embarrassing, eyes locked and then slipping to watch the shadowed movement.

"What could you possibly say that could freak me out?" Blaine wonders aloud.

Kurt just huffs again, letting his mouth slide to Blaine's neck as he shuffles closer, searching for more friction, wondering how long it's polite to wait before he starts grinding down desperately, racing for release. "I just don't want to wreck this," he concedes, and then groans, and he really, _really, _doesn't want to wreck this.

Blaine sees the red in his cheeks and the way his eyes flick away and he wonders whether this is Kurt over-reacting about having impure thoughts, thinks it's not, thinks Kurt's been thinking things beyond 'impure thoughts' and his heart races, his hips buck, to think Kurt might have ideas beyond his own. But Kurt's still blushing, just a little panicked, his hips held a little static as he waits.

And Blaine slides low in his seat, making their breath catch and Kurt's eyes flash and then he arches up and captures the hand Kurt was using to try to keep balance, a little distance. He draws his hand to his mouth as their bodies press closer, skims his lips from the back of a wrist to the tip of a finger and then licks down across a palm. He's always really liked Kurt's hands but has never been able to do this.

He sinks his mouth down around index and middle fingers, slides them into his mouth and tries desperately not to imagine the taste of his come, Kurt's, there. Just boy and salt and skin. Lets his mind fly to the idea of sinking his mouth down around Kurt's cock because it's been an idea that's plagued him for months. And he moans.

Kurt just stares, breath held, watching, feeling a tongue between his fingers and all hot, wet heat, light friction over his knuckles. And Blaine's cock caught against his, nothing moving, just more and more pressure and warmth. "You know what I think about?" Blaine whispers, cheeks red, eyelashes low as he blinks slowly.

Kurt barely makes a whimper of entreaty.

"How one day you'll tell me everything you're thinking," Blaine whispers, head ducking to Kurt's shoulders, drawing in a rough breath there. "It won't be awkward because we'll be so good at it..." he trails off and wonders if he's said the right thing.

Kurt just arches, stomachs pressing, chests against each other and the windows, he's realized have started to fog up. He stares at him. "Everything though?" he asks, both of them blushing.

"Yeah," Blaine says, leaning it to press a contrastingly chaste kiss to his mouth. "We'll get so comfortable you can tell me every single dirty, filthy fantasy that you've ever had."

Kurt blushes and slides his eyes down, faced then with where it's just skin on skin and all too visceral. God he wants to just let go.

"I think about this as well, though," Blaine offers, his hands moving from where they've been splayed across Kurt's thighs to his waist, holding him with a tight grip there. "And more than this. But this. A lot."

Kurt's eyes flash and he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and stops pushing down on the throb in his belly, in his balls, lets it coil higher and tighter as he asks, "This?"

And Blaine's fingers tighten and pull him down, his hips snapping up and grinding roughly, pressing against and forceful and repeating as Blaine lets his hips thrust hard again and again against Kurt's straddling body. And Kurt moans out something obscene as he feels it resonate through him and make him want to beg and babble.

Then Blaine stills. "This," he whispers, arching up and kissing Kurt again, hips starting a slower heavy roll into Kurt's and Kurt just groans to feel the tremble in Blaine's abdomen, the tenseness in his thighs and fuck, he _wants_ this.

"Just..." and Kurt's breath catches and his hand untangles from Blaine's hair and runs harsh down his front. "Back to your house? Practice?" he asks, a joke that belies the seriousness.

Blaine just breathes out, "We're gonna get so damn good at this," and rocks up again.

Kurt's hand finds where their cocks are still pressed together, rutting slow and holding back on that last inevitable fall. Blaine stares at him, brown eyes with pupils blown wide, as his fingers find Blaine's cock and wrap around, stroke in what he thinks is the same way he touches himself and listens to the way Blaine's breath catches and then slips from his lips in a whine.

Then Kurt's hand goes around the both cocks, fingers stretching to contain them and force rough honest friction as both hips stutter and the cocks in his hand rub. Then Blaine growls and leans forward, lips at the place where his jaw joins his neck, kissing, sucking, then whispering, just a second of caught breath, nervousness, Kurt thinks, "You gonna come for me?"

And Kurt can't help but squeeze tighter, stroke awkwardly over both of them and groan deep in his throat as his head falls forward and he whispers, sounding—but not at all—scandalized, "Blaine!" And then, seeing Blaine's eyes wide, just a little worry there, awkward. Fuck. "Blaine...yes," he mumbles. God, he's never going to not want to talk and Blaine's telling him he wants him to. "I am going to come so fucking hard," he thinks and then mumbles out against his neck.

He feels Blaine rock up, his hand slipping free from the momentum and almost losing balance and moving back in to grab again, to stroke—god he wants to get Blaine off.

But Blaine shoves him back, awkward and haphazard and it's a mess of limbs; Kurt's about to tell him to stop being ridiculous when Blaine's hands find him and push him to the side, into the seat, splay him out with legs either side, stretched and back pressed to the seat with Blaine's hands all over him. And Blaine bends and wills his muscles to accommodate, ducks his head with dark eyes staring at Kurt until the last second and then an arched eyebrow and words whispered—Fuck, that's what that feels like—across Kurt's dick.

"Say yes?"

Kurt just nods and garbles out a 'Yes' on his second try. "Yes," he says a little too loudly then and Blaine's mouth sinks down, hot wet pressure Kurt cannot believe and oh, fuck, that's embarrassing: he's right there on edge. And Blaine's tongue is tracing the veins up the underside of his cock, one of his hands pressed to his balls, caressing harshly and then wrapped around the base as he sucks. Fucking hell. He sucks and looks up at him from beneath his eyelashes with a grin about his stretched wide lips and Kurt yelps and thrusts up, sliding more of his length into Blaine's mouth but only making him smile wider.

"Blaine," he mumbles, warning, surprised, everything. "Blaine, you're gonna..." he trails off and blushes and Blaine pulls back with a lick to the head of his cock. _Jesus._

"What, Kurt?" he asks, one of his hands snaking down to his own crotch and Kurt can't quite see what he's doing and why, _why, _are they doing this in a ridiculously cramped car?

But shit. "You're gonna make me come," Kurt says too loudly.

And Blaine sucks hard around the head, tongue flicking back and forth and then pulls up and presses his body down close, a hand still between them, wrapped around tight and stroking as his mouth finds Kurt's and his tongue slides inside, setting up the same tempo as his hand and Kurt's arching into the touch, keening into the mouth over his and his hands are grasping hard at the skin beneath Blaine's shirt.

And there's a moment of clarity, of realizing if he comes like this it will be between them, over them, messy and sticky and he doesn't care at all because they're going back to Blaine's house to be alone.

And then Blaine's other hand finds his ass and rocks his hips up for him, hard against him and Kurt's gone without knowing it, rambling incoherent and dirty pleas into Blaine's mouth, feeling him smile against him as Blaine's hand works him over, faster and tighter and dragging his orgasm out, pulling away only as the last tremors race through Kurt's body and staring down at the splatter of come across his stomach, Kurt's stomach, streaked over his hand, both cocks.

Just drips of pearly white and it's such a fucking turn on to see that Blaine mumbles, "Please," before he realises how close he is.

Kurt's hand snakes down, around, as his hips move back, sitting up straighter, and he palms roughly at Blaine's cock, stroking only a few times and then Blaine doesn't curb the sound, the growling moan of desperate release as he arches up and pulls Kurt's hand away at the wrist, tries to hold still and watch, Kurt as well, as he trembles through his muscles, tenses then lets go and comes seconds after his boyfriend with hips rocking in air, knees bent into Kurt's, but barely touching again. Both sets of eyes staring as he shudders at the electricity of it and spurts come across Kurt's belly, his cock, his hand, gravity drawing it down. And Blaine should feel a jolt of worry that _that _will be too much. Watching and coming, patterns on his boyfriend's skin and Blaine obviously getting off on it. But Kurt's mouth hangs open and his eyes stay dark and Blaine doesn't worry at all.

They both hold their breath, though, barely seconds they hang there, bodies shifting as their muscles tremble and their hearts race. And then Blaine take a rattling breath and grins wolfishly, his cheeks red, sweat running in rivulets down his neck and his eyes still wide. He hesitates, perhaps considers, another second, and Kurt wants to ask why but doesn't and then Blaine's drawing back a little, running two fingers across Kurt's stomach, drawing, Kurt thinks with a ridiculous thrill, a cursive 'B' and then holding his raised, come-slicked fingers, between them.

Another second, Kurt's eyes wide but his lips parting and then Blaine's fingers are in his mouth, pressing as his body falls and he clamors closer, hotter, pulls his fingers free from where Kurt's sucking insistent, instinctive and kisses him hard on the mouth, groaning into it as his body sags and his cock twitches at the too-muchness of it all. He keeps kissing, tongue in Kurt's mouth, tasting, convincing, until Kurt groans back and sucks hard on his tongue, breaking away breathless with his head turned and his eyes closed, but grinning.

Then Blaine kisses him on the cheek, just a press of lips and exhaled breath that still sounds rasping and caught. Then another kiss on his jaw, the same, and Kurt can feel him leaning back, turns his head and doesn't get a chance to say anything because Blaine says, "Come home with me."

Which was the plan. And Blaine looks at him with pleading eyes, mouth stumbling over more words as he tries to keep the moment but also get his pants back up again. He kind of thinks he should find a tissue but also kind of doesn't want to. "Stay with me and then we'll do breakfast tomorrow and then you can come back to mine as much as you want, all week." He thinks. "We can say we're having coffee and going to movies and shopping but, not. We have all week." He smiles, shy and hopeful and a little bit dirty and Kurt just nods dumbly because that is exactly, _exactly_, what he wants.

He starts putting together ideas of what he wants to do first. What he wants to tell Blaine about. But Blaine's scrambling off him, fixing his shirt, his pants, and pushing open the side door. There's a moment where Kurt stares after him, too much going on in his head. And then Blaine looks back and offers him a hand but also lets his gaze wander down.

And Kurt's yanking his shirt back down, pulling the waistband of his pants away from his body and up and he feels gross, covered in sweat and come but there's something more there. Something not gross. He looks idly around for a tissue. But that would entail cleaning up in front of Blaine. And they're not quite there yet.

So he deals with the cooling sticky mess and climbs out of the car, hand sliding into Blaine's, both still hot and slick, and then Blaine quietly closes the car door behind him.

He stands there, barefoot in his pyjamas and doesn't even consider going back inside for clothes. He's borrowed them from Blaine before, everything a little too tight, too short on him, but smelling of Blaine. Maybe he won't need clothes.

Blaine coughs and grins and angles his head to where he's opened the passenger side door and is waiting patiently for Kurt to let go of his hand and get inside.

Smiling back, Kurt just breathes in a breath once more and tries not to blush. Always trying not to blush. But this is Blaine, in half done-up jeans and a wrinkled T-shirt, his hair curly and messed beyond anything gel can contain. And looking at him with a lopsided smile, waiting eyes and his hand in his. And they just got off together. Twice. And they're going back to his house to do it again. And again.

And get ridiculously terribly good at it.

Blaine said he wants to hear all Kurt's ideas. And Kurt, right now, has at least a half-dozen he really wants to share.

Another loud sigh and Blaine smiles wider and asks, "Kurt?"

Kurt blushes, caught thinking again, but purses his lips and arches an eyebrow, "What?"

Blaine tugs on his hand. "Get in the car," he whispers, "Or I'm pushing you back into the backseat and we will never make it to my house."

And Kurt laughs and does exactly as he's told.


End file.
